He bullies away the gaps in his knowledge, filling them with loudness.
The driver reacts to the near-collision by shouting at everyone else.
Wind that could tear the hair from your scalp.
When asking for feedback on her poems, she doesn't expect a blast of criticism, but braces herself just in case. It's an act of vulnerability.
The branch has landed in a silken reflection of trees and clouds.
The tree has a bare trunk and a tangled mass of branches at the top, like a nest for a giant bird.
I pose badly, she says. It's in the way I hold my chin, look past her shoulder, keep my lips pursed so I won't laugh. But it doesn't matter, because the end result is the same: two sets of ellipses for eyes and glasses, a beaming crescent mouth, and a nose that looks like a raven in flight. I cherish it.